A Perfect Stitch

Chapter 15 | seduced by Worshipping

Water cravings snatched the bits of sleep in my eyes and rushed me out of my pillows and comfortable blanket.

My little steps cracked the wood in the hallway, but not even a soul woke up.

Morning birds whistled in unison, and their melody stole the graveyard silence in the mansion.

I plopped my feet down the red-carpeted stairs, stretched my limbs, and stifled a yarn.

Fountain water lashed outside and slammed on gigantic sea rocks.

I stopped at the dining and did a one-minute breathing exercise.

Inhaling, stopping my breath, and exhaling.

I repeated the circle before grinding my hips to a little hallway that led to the kitchen.

I flipped a switch and reached for a glass of cold water from the fridge.

Everything happening to me was phony.

Why did this mess hold me, hostage?

The water was icy against my lips and sweaty in my hands.

Just perfect!

And out of nowhere, a glass shattered.

My heart skipped to my mouth.

The devil was shirtless, legs crossed as he leaned his massive arms on the counter.

His black hoodie slid off his hair and revealed the nest of his silly bed hair.

Those sea-blue eyes of his trapped mine for a second and rolled in disgust at the glass he had broken.

His body was some type of rare sin.

So firm, sexy, and slim in the right places.

His arduous abdomen, behind his hoodie's opened zipper which had eight fine gold flakes, screamed, " please caress me, " and his stiff thighs in those red shorts brought about a fantasy.

He smirked.

Sweat dripped down his exaggerated torso, glided over his huge print, and soiled his manly tanned legs.

Awwh!

He was just wow!

The white sneakers and white towel wrapped around his neck fitted him like a glove.

His grip on the counter was enticing.

His stern veins were mesmerizing.

Holy crap!

This was too much.

If I'd peeled his shorts off, the numerous things we would have done will be uncountable and memorable.

What in heaven was I thinking?

A whip of sanity stroked my back, chasing the devilish thoughts away, and itching a nerve of instant holy focus, yet Dwain noticed my stare.

It lasted only a second before he closed the distance between us.

His breath tickled my face while his long-manly fingers caressed my cheeks.

This forbidden Disney beast sandwiched me on the fridge.

His weight drowned my senses and left me helpless.

"Look at me." He tugged my chin, tapped it, and thrust my eyes to his.

I gulped, trying not to notice how close we were to each other in such a vulnerable position. "I don't want to look at you. Just let me be."